


Just Like Christmas

by scullymurphy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Being Lost, Candy, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, F/M, Fireplaces, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 03:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19967101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullymurphy/pseuds/scullymurphy
Summary: Hermione Granger is annoyed. She's landed the field assignment of her life, but just learned that her partner is the infuriating (and infuriatingly attractive) Draco Malfoy.  Deep in the Scandinavian wilderness, they'll encounter snow storms, wrong turns, hungry Graphorns and some very tiny beds before they go from adversaries to - something more. And somewhere along the way it will start to feel a bit like Christmas...





	1. On our way from Stockholm, it started to snow

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:  
> **Written for the Dramione FanFiction Forum Christmas in July Challenge** (To write a one-shot based on your favorite Christmas song ... in July.)  
> My favorite Christmas song is sort of non-traditional. It’s called ‘Just Like Christmas’ and its by the indie band Low. It tells a perfect little story about a trip that seems to go from bad to good (and from feeling not like Christmas to being just like Christmas), despite some obstacles along the way. So it was an easy thing to take the lines from the song and fill in a Dramione backstory. Each section heading/chapter is a line from the song. Check it out on youtube if you've never heard it - it's great. 
> 
> **Just Like Christmas**  
>  On our way from Stockholm  
> It started to snow  
> And you said it was like Christmas  
> But you were wrong  
> It wasn't like Christmas at all
> 
> By the time we got to Oslo  
> The snow was gone  
> And we got lost  
> The beds were small  
> But we felt so young  
> It was just like Christmas

Hermione Granger pounded the steering wheel in frustration. “I hate driving on the other side of the road, not to mention the other side of the car!” she huffed. 

Her companion didn’t say anything, but she was sure he was raising a disdainful brow, which annoyed her even more. 

She peered up through the windshield, unimpressed by the alpine beauty of the Swedish countryside passing by. “And I’m almost certain those are snow clouds. Shit! I am also _not_ comfortable driving in snow.” 

“Well if you’d just let me arrange a portkey, like I suggested Granger,” his drawl contained more than a hint of ‘I told you so.’

“You know that wasn’t practical, Malfoy! We have all this equipment and the location is far from exact. We could have ended up on a deserted mountainside somewhere in below-freezing temperatures.” 

“Doubtful.” He sounded bored.

Hermione could see out of her peripheral vision that he was studying the muggle map, turning it this way and that. “Are you sure you know how to read that?” she asked, squinting a quick glance at him. 

“For the third or fourth time, yes,” he said, his exasperation finally breaking through his cool. “I think we may be on the wrong road, though. We should pull over.” 

Hermione looked at the fat white flakes starting to collect on the windscreen and heaved a sigh as she braked and flipped on her indicator. This trip was taking a fast downhill slide. Not that it had far to go. It had been doomed before it started...

_~2 weeks earlier~_

When the Graphorn request came in from the Scandinavian Ministry of Magic to the DMC, Hermione had been ecstatic. She’d been wanting to work with the creatures for ages and the chance to interact with them - especially in the wild - was extremely rare. Plus she was outraged by the smuggling ring that had been targeting the herds, slaughtering the animals for their priceless horns, and pleased to be able to help protect them. 

Most European herds were already safeguarded by powerful spells and wards, some of which Hermione had helped design. But these herds, one in a remote part of Sweden and another in Norway, had managed to keep hidden until now, when an excess of their horn powder had arrived on the potions black market and diagnostic spells had revealed its origins. 

Hermione hadn’t realized she’d be getting a partner for the assignment from the DMLE investigative task force, but the two departments had decided it would make sense to combine efforts. The DMLE agent would gather evidence on the poachers and provide protection, while Hermione assessed the animals and cast the protective spells. Hermione couldn’t argue with that, it would be nice not to have to watch her back while she was performing complex magic. She half hoped the agent assigned would be Harry, although she knew he was working an intense case and unlikely to be pulled away.

When she found out her assigned agent was Draco Malfoy, she’d had mixed feelings. On the one hand, Malfoy was one of the best and most meticulous aurors in the department. Hermione respected his work ethic and methods, as did Harry, who had partnered him on several cases. On the other he hadn’t done much field work - and he was, well, still Malfoy. Still prickly and sarcastic. Still arrogant and cold.

_And still_ _gorgeous_ , whispered Hermione’s inner voice, although she ruthlessly suppressed it. Just because a man dressed impeccably and had perfect hair and bone structure didn’t mean she had to lose her head. All she had to do was remember what a little prick he’d been in school and those disturbing thoughts usually abated. Well, most of them. 

Anyway, she’d decided to make the best of the Malfoy situation and even put a special note on the assignment request saying she thought he would be ideal for the job, which she knew he would see. 

She was looking forward to the trip again until she’d wandered by the DMLE intake desk one day while on her way to meet Harry for lunch. The girls who filed requests had been gossiping and she heard Malfoy’s name, so she’d stopped to eavesdrop shamelessly. 

“You know how his eyes go _really_ silver when he’s upset?”

“Oooh, yes. _So_ hot.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Well, they were practically _sparking_ when he walked out of Robards’s office. And his hair was a little mussed like he’d been raking his fingers through it…” 

_Well that actually sounds quite intriguing_ , whispered Hermione’s treacherous inner voice. She told it to shut up. 

“STOP. You. are. killing. me. Why did I have to be off sick that day?? Do you know why he was upset?” 

“I don’t. I could only hear snippets through the door. Something to do with smuggling and Switzerland? Or was it Sweden? And I heard Malfoy sort of raise his voice and say, ‘I’m not doing it!’ at one point. And Robards said, ‘we’ll talk about this later’ as Malfoy left.” 

Hermione’s brows drew together in a ferocious frown and she’d stalked past them toward Harry’s office, face red. So he didn’t want to go on her assignment, did he? When she had taken special pains let him know she approved? What a total _arse_ . She vowed then and there that she wouldn’t give an inch to that blond prat. He could fucking _freeze_ in the Scandanavian wastelands for all she cared.


	2. Chapter 2: And you said it was like Christmas, but you were wrong

Hermione guided the car to stop on the side of the now white road and swung open the door. Freezing air rushed into the warm interior, shocking her system.

“God, it’s cold!” she exclaimed standing up and jumping in place a bit. “Let me see that map.” Even two weeks later, when her feelings of embarrassment over his rejection had mostly abated, she couldn’t keep an edge of irritation out of her voice. 

He stood up and pulled his beautifully cut greatcoat around him, buttoning it tightly and flipping the collar up. 

_Mmm he looks fucking delicious in winter wear_ , purred Hermione’s inner voice, which had unfortunately not been deterred in the slightest by his prattishness about the assingment. 

He didn’t relinquish the map, instead leaning against the car to study it and trace a gloved finger along the paper. “Look, here’s the route you highlighted,” he looked up with a flash of silver and she had no choice but to come over to him. 

Her inner self noted his height and that he smelled very good. She ignored it in favor of concentrating on the map. 

They did indeed look to be in the right place. Hermione had consulted the muggle internet and drawn the route carefully. They’d previously portkeyed to Stockholm, where they’d been briefed by the Swedish ministers. Then they’d flooed to the biggest town near to where the herd had been spotted - in a mountainous region near the border with Norway. Hermione had insisted on a muggle car from there. She didn’t want to risk apparating or portkeying to the remote spot they were staying, despite Malfoy’s _ridiculous_ suggestions. 

But they had been driving up and down this road for over thirty minutes without finding the lane to the hostel. Hermione was perplexed. Had they just missed it? 

“Ah! I think I know what happened,” said Malfoy, tapping the map. “There are two roads with the same name,” he pointed to another line parallel to the one they were on. “Just looks like maybe ‘lesser’ vs ‘greater’ Gränsvägen or maybe it’s ‘upper’ vs ‘lower’. My Swedish is shit.” 

Hermione grabbed the corner of the map and shoved it nearer her face. “Oh damn. I think you’re right. Sorry.” she was chagrined that she’d sent them on a wild goose chase. 

“It’s fine,” he said. “We haven’t been looking that long. And we _are_ in the middle of fucking nowhere.” He looked around and inhaled deeply. Hermione also really looked around for the first time and realized they had stopped in a sort of winter wonderland. It was utterly silent and the road was lined by magnificent fir trees that were now dusted with white. They were so far north and it was so late in the year that the sun had already set, even though it was only about 5pm. Deep twilight surrounded them and the moon had started to rise, adorned by a few perfect, twinkling stars. 

Hermione blew her breath out into the freezing air. “Yeah, wow. It feels about a thousand miles from Stockholm.” She caught a snowflake on her tongue. 

She felt his eyes on her, but when she looked at him, he glanced quickly away and walked a few paces from the car toward the trees. “It’s like bloody Christmas Eve. I’m expecting to see Santa Claus leading a reindeer out of the trees.”

For some reason this comment irked Hermione and recalled her sense of injury. “No it’s _not_. On Christmas I expect to be warm, merry and drunk - and surrounded by people who want to be with me. Not freezing on the side of a road with someone who would rather be anywhere else.” Annnnd, she was instantly mortified at what she’d said. Her inner 13 year old had really come out to play. 

Malfoy’s eyes flashed to hers and for a split second she saw confusion and maybe a tiny bit of something else. “Malfoy, I...” she blinked rapidly and reached out, to smooth it over, or apologize, or... 

But then he iced over, “I just meant the scenery, Granger. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Come on - if we go up about 10 miles and make a left and then another left we’ll be on the right road to the hostel.” He stalked back to the car and she had no choice but to follow, feeling like a total arsehole.


	3.  It wasn't like Christmas at all

The bad mood between them persisted during check-in, where they were informed by the prim clerk that they had missed dinner. They could either be served a cold supper in their rooms or go to the pub for a light menu. 

At the same time Hermione said, “Supper in my room,” Draco said, “I’ll go to the pub.” They looked at each other warily and both shrugged. 

_Oh well_ , thought Hermione. It wasn’t like she’d expected to hang out with him. What she really needed to do was get organized and then go to bed early, so she would be ready for the long day tomorrow. 

In fact, their schedule for the next few days was packed. They expected to spend a day here, then drive to the location where the second herd had been spotted, across the border in Norway - perform the same work there and then make their way to Oslo to brief the Norwegian Ministry. 

_It’s probably not a great idea to go to the pub_ , she sniffed internally (or maybe _slightly_ audibly), glancing at Malfoy out of the corner of her eye as they received their room keys. 

He seemed to read her thoughts because he remarked dryly, “It’s part of my job, you know. I need to go talk to the locals and see if I can find out anything about the smugglers.” 

She felt her face flush and she waved him off, telling him she’d see him in the morning. The last she saw of him was his long form striding down the hall to his room before he threw her a curt good night and closed his door with a decisive crack. 

*

The next morning, Hermione was up well before the dawn, checking and rechecking equipment and their route to the herd’s location on the trail map she’d procured. As soon as she was presentable, she jogged down to the morning room for breakfast, expecting to be the first person there. She felt a distinct pinch of annoyance when she saw Malfoy seated at a window table, looking well-rested and already partaking of coffee and toast. 

“Ah there you are,” he said, looking up with a glint in his eye. 

She glared at him. It was also unfair that he looked so _crisp_ this early in the morning. 

“Take a seat?” he gestured to the chair across from him as the waitress bustled up and offered her coffee or tea. She slid into the chair and ordered coffee. 

“You’re up awfully early,” she remarked a bit churlishly. “Must not have had much luck at the pub.”

“On the contrary,” he said. “I uncovered some solid information. A few names and descriptions to follow up on.”

“Good for you,” she mumbled, taking a deep sip of her scalding black coffee. The first hit of caffeine to her system instantly made her feel a little more human. “I mean, that’s good. Useful.” 

“I thought so,” he murmured. “Now Granger,” his tone changed from light to sort of lecturing. ‘ _Sexy’_ whispered her inner voice. “What you said yesterday made me think that _you_ think I don’t want to be here, but I assure you nothing could be further from the truth. I’m here to do my job; investigate - and facilitate the very important work you’re going to do.” He held her eyes a bit sternly, but then his crinkled at the corners as the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, “And I’m also quite excited to see Graphorns in real life.”

“Oh, no, I,” she stuttered, looking down, her brain racing. Even though she was peeved, it was a bit embarrassing that she’d been so obvious about it that he’d noticed. And he seemed sincere - maybe he’d changed his mind since the meeting with Robards? And that part about the Graphorns was fucking cute. 

She took a deep breath and decided right then to quit being childish and start over. He was clearly trying to make a fresh start with her. “Well thank you for saying that. I can’t wait to see the Graphorns either,” she gave him a tiny smile and his eyes warmed on hers. She ignored the flutters this caused in her stomach. “Now, do you want to go over today’s plans...?”


	4. By the time we got to Oslo, the snow was gone

**_A few days later…_ **

Hermione sang along with the moody song playing on the radio, tapping her thumbs on the steering wheel as they rocketed down the tree-lined highway on the outskirts of Oslo. 

“You know this?” Malfoy asked with surprise. 

“Yeah, I have a few of his albums. You like him too?” She threw him a quick half smile. 

“Yeah, he’s great. Surprising to find someone else who knows who he is.” 

“That’s me, full of surprises.” 

He chuckled. 

“God, I’m glad the snow is gone.” Hermione glanced up at the clear winter sky. Blue was giving way to pink and purple as the sun dipped below the horizon.

“It’s still bloody, _fucking_ cold though,” he said. “I don’t know how people live this way. Especially muggles. If we hadn’t had warming charms the last few days I don’t think I would have made it.” 

It was her turn to chuckle. “Agreed. It was absolutely brutal. But I think we accomplished a lot” 

“We did,” he said with some satisfaction. 

They fell into a companionable silence and Hermione reflected with her own sense of satisfaction on the work they’d done. She’d managed to ward both the herds effectively. Draco had been a huge help there, taking on some of the spellwork and even interacting directly with the animals. There’d been a particularly hilarious incident with one of the female Graphorns, who’d taken a shine to him and/or tried to eat his hair, which they concluded she probably thought was dried grass? But he’d been a good sport about it - he’d come a long way since Buckbeak.

Malfoy had also made some progress with the investigation - they’d even found what they thought was the smugglers’ base of operations in Norway and he’d been able to ward it and collect a decent amount of evidence to send home. They’d have a good report for the Norwegian authorities tomorrow afternoon.

And there had been last night. 

A tiny sigh escaped Hermione’s throat when she thought about it. She reddened, then glanced quickly at Malfoy to see if he’d noticed, but he was staring out the window singing along with the melancholy song in a surprisingly nice baritone.

It was just that they had had such a nice time. They’d sort of naturally decided to get dinner together at the pub in their hotel and then stayed on for a few drinks after. At one point after maybe a few _tiny_ glasses of wine, Hermione had been doing an impression of the Graphorn trying to eat Malfoy’s head, while giving him her professional opinion on whether its interest had been culinary, maternal or amorous - and he’d been in tears of laughter. 

She didn’t even think she’d ever seen him fully smile, let alone absolutely collapsed with hilarity. It had been delightful. And when he’d calmed down and wiped his eyes, he’d shot her a smile that was absolutely lethal. She had no _idea_ he had a dimple. 

Then he had gotten into the hotel’s stash of the local Aquavit (he claimed it was high-quality, although Hermione thought it tasted like petrol) and challenged her to a game of exploding snap, which had led to even more silliness. She didn’t think she’d had that much _fun_ in a long time - even with Ginny. And Malfoy was sort of the last person she associated with fun. 

At the end of the night they had stumbled down the corridor arguing about who’d won the game (Hermione had clearly won). And then there had been a bit of a moment in front of her door. His face had sobered and he’d looked down at her and she’d looked up at him, marveling at the way silver could be _warm_ sometimes. 

Then she’d hiccuped, which at the time was very funny, but now was slightly mortifying. It had effectively broken the mood and set him off laughing again. He’d grabbed her hand, placed a smacking kiss on it and congratulated her for being a good loser - then weaved off down the hallway. She’d said a jolly goodnight and went into her room, but leaned against the closed door with eyes closed for a good while before she pushed off and got ready for bed. 

In the morning, she’d run down to the bar and bought him a bottle of the Aquavit, which the barman had said couldn’t be procured anywhere else. She’d had the vague idea of giving it to him when they got back home to say thanks for a job well done. Or maybe she’d save it for Christmas - it was only a month and a bit off.

And now here they were almost to Oslo, with only one night left in the trip. It had gone so fast… _Too fast_ , her inner voice interjected slyly.


	5. And we got lost

“Hermione,” his deep voice broke her reverie. “Shouldn’t we have gotten to the road the hotel is on by now?” 

Shit, he was right. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t been paying attention and had absolutely missed their turn off. 

“Fuck.” she enunciated with some asperity, looking for a place to turn around. 

He started laughing softly. “It’s all right, Granger. I’m just pointing it out. Not everyone has a great sense of direction.” 

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Oh fuck off, Draco!”

He snickered, shaking his head. “You are _so_ easy to tease…” 

She extended her middle finger in his direction as she whipped the car around. 

“You’re actually a very good driver, you know,” he soothed, the hint of a smile still present in his speech. 

“How would you know - you, you, … _pureblood_!” 

He laughed out loud, “oooh, grave insult! And I’ll have you know that I can drive a muggle car. Other, more charitable muggle-borns of my acquaintance have been kind enough to give me lessons.”

“If you’re referring to Harry that doesn’t count because A) He’s not muggle-born - he was just temporarily housed by those trash people and B) He can’t drive for shit, so you had a terrible teacher. 

“I’ll make sure to tell him you said that.”

At this, Hermione couldn’t help herself and cracked up laughing. “Tell me where to turn, you prat.”

“Ok, it’s juuust up there on the left,” he leaned over, well into her personal space to point out the road, and she caught a subtle hint of the clean, crisp scent she now associated with him. She couldn’t help herself from inhaling rather deeply.

They turned on the smallish road, which quickly turned into a narrow lane and then into a gravel track. 

“This is not what I was expecting from a hotel in Oslo,” Hermione remarked as they bounced along. 

“I’d say we’re not quite in Oslo proper yet,” he said, peering out the window to the wide fields and sweeps of evergreen trees surrounding them. 

“Well as long as this place has a comfortable bed and some decent food, I will be happy,” she declared. 

“Is it too much to ask that they also have high thread count sheets and fluffy bath towels?” he asked innocently. 

Hermione half laughed and half snorted. “You are such a diva.”

“I just like nice things. Is that so wrong?” 

She risked a look over at him and saw a quizzical brow raised over the dimple over the turned up collar of the coat and sighed inwardly. 

At that moment they came over a slight rise in the road and the hotel came into view. Although, ‘hotel’ was actually not quite accurate - it looked more like a collection of ski chalets. There was one larger structure in the middle of the property and then about 8 or 10 smaller houses scattered haphazardly throughout the rest of the acreage. Each cottage was different and a little zany looking - the whole thing reminded Hermione of the Burrow somehow. 

“This is really not what I was expecting,” she remarked, pulling up in front of the larger structure, which looked to house the lobby and restaurant.

“No, not at all,” he agreed, opening the car door. “God it’s fucking _arctic_ out here!” He pulled his coat around him and blew his breath out in a cloud. “I think the temperature dropped below freezing since the sun set.” 

Hermione shoved her knit cap on her head as she ran up the steps to the door. Draco got there just before her and opened it, placing his hand on the small of her back and ushering her through to the warmth inside. 

A stern looking witch greeted them and began checking them in. “One cottage, two beds,” she muttered to herself as she flipped through a set of cards on the desk.

“Ah, no, I think you’ll find it’s two cottages, one bed. Each.” Hermione remarked with a nervous smile at Draco, who shrugged and looked surprised. 

The woman looked up and gave Hermione a dead-eyed stare. “One cottage. Two beds. That was the booking requested.” Her accented English somehow made her words sound a bit ominous.

Hermione started to argue as the other woman’s brow lowered, “there must be some mist…” 

Draco threw Hermione a look and interrupted her, leaning down on the counter and fixing the older witch with a brilliant smile and the full force of his striking eyes. “I’m _so_ sorry, but would you be so kind as to check the booking again? I think there’s been a slight miscommunication, no doubt entirely on our side. But we would like two separate cottages if you could possibly supply them.” His voice dripped treacle and he finished his little speech with a winsome head tilt. 

Hermione was about to snort when the older witch’s demeanor suddenly softened and a sweet smile broke over her grim face. “I am sorry,” she said in a much kinder tone of voice, “but we’re fully booked and have only the one cottage available. It does have two beds, though. Would you like it or no?”

Hermione and Draco looked at each other. It was dark now and freezing. They were at least twenty miles from Oslo’s center. Hermione was hungry and she didn’t know of any other wizarding establishments in the area. She blinked up into his face. 

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” he ventured, lifting his shoulders and quirking his mouth. 

“What’s one night?” she said with an attempt at bravado. 

“Ok, then we’ll take it,” Draco said, turning back to the stern witch. 

_Oh_ _hell_ , thought Hermione. 


	6. The beds were small

Hermione pushed open the door to the round little cottage they had been assigned. Furthest from the main building, it was up a small hill and surrounded by fir trees.

 _Cozy and romantic_ , she thought ominously. 

But as soon as she saw the interior, she started laughing. 

“What?” said Draco, coming behind her up the steps with their bags. “What’s funny?”

“Look,” she choked out, pointing to the beds arranged neatly against the far wall. They were absolutely _tiny_. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Draco’s clipped tones rang out in the small room. “I thought Scandanavians were supposed to be _tall_!” He dropped their bags and stalked over to examine the offending items.

Hermione noticed that everything in the cabin was small - small armchair next to a tiny fireplace, a mini table for two, low counters and cupboards and of course the beds. She felt like she’d stumbled into some wacky version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. 

“I won’t even be able to stretch out,” she said, dropping down on the mattress and extending her legs past the end, “let alone you.” Her eyes took the excuse to travel over his tall frame. 

Draco caught her gaze for a brief moment and then sighed resignedly. “Let’s go to dinner. I’ll be better able to cope with this once I’m fed.”

“Good plan.” 

*

“No, the extension charm definitely does not work,” declared Hermione, sheathing her wand. “We’re officially stuck with these beds.” 

Draco groaned. “I don’t think I had enough wine at dinner to be able to deal with this.”

Hermione chuckled, they had actually had quite a lot of wine with dinner and she was feeling very mellow. She laughed harder when she looked over at Draco and saw his legs extending a good foot off the end of the bed. 

“At least it doesn’t have a footboard,” she quipped. “I’m going to change.” 

She stepped into the tiny loo and donned her pyjamas, glad that she’d packed a set that was fairly cute and actually matched. In fact, she realized as she looked at herself in the dinky mirror above the sink, the cropped top that showed a bit of her trim midriff could be construed as rather sexy. Her heart gave a thump and she briefly considered covering up with another layer, before the wine in her blood colluded with that annoying inner voice to say something close to _‘fuck it’_. It wasn’t like she’d chosen these on purpose because she knew she’d be sharing a room with him. 

She cleaned her teeth and face, then exited the loo and looked over at Draco. He was now lounged across the miniscule armchair, long legs slung over the arm, making it look even more like a toy that it previously had. He also looked bloody sexy, and her tipsy brain supplied a little vision of what could happen if she went and joined him in the chair. He looked up from the book he was perusing and his gaze traveled up her body. She noticed a slight pause at her midsection, then his eyes flicked up to hers and a definite frisson passed between them. 

“All yours!” she blurted to cover her confusion and the fact that she knew a blush was creeping up her neck to her cheeks. 

“Thanks.” He rose fluidly up out of the chair and passed very close to her. Suddenly the room seemed smaller than ever. Hermione spun away and busied herself turning down her bed and getting a glass of water. She also cast a warming charm to try to raise the temperature. Not that it helped much. The cold was beyond anything she’d tried to tackle before and her spell barely seemed to make a dent. She might need that extra layer after all. 

Draco came out of the tiny bath and she cast a surreptitious glance his way. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting - green silk pyjamas? A brocade smoking jacket? - but the muggle style joggers and soft grey t-shirt that hugged his elegant frame and highlighted his lean muscles was _not_ it. _God, he looked good_. She averted her eyes and scrunched herself into her tiny bed, pulling the covers tight around her. 

“I tried to cast a warming charm,” she ventured through teeth that were starting to chatter. “I don’t think it really worked, though.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed, sitting down with his back to her and picking up his own wand. She found herself staring at the interplay of movement under his soft shirt. “Yeah, I don’t think my spell is strong enough either.” He flopped down half of his body on the bed and sighed. 

“Well, goodnight,” she said, not knowing what else to say. 

“Goodnight,” he murmured and doused the lights with his wand. She could hear him moving around, trying to get comfortable, but then he stilled and the cabin became very quiet. 

The temperature continued to drop and Hermione lay there in the dark, very aware of him in the next bed and also of every creak and tiny sound around the cabin. There was the scrabbling of a small creature on the roof and a soft thump that could have been snow sliding off a branch to the ground. Each moment that slipped by she felt more awake, more alert and more on edge. She was also freezing. _This was going to be a long, uncomfortable night._


	7. But we felt so young

“Granger are you asleep?” His voice suddenly whispered in the darkness. 

“No,” she sighed, relieved that he was awake too. “I’m bloody _cold_.”

“Well, I’m bloody uncomfortable,” he huffed. “There’s not much I can do about that, but we could try the muggle way to get warm.” 

Hermione’s brain went in about a thousand different directions at this suggestion, but then she realized he had gotten up and was walking over to the fireplace. _You are such a lecher,_ crowed her inner voice. She shushed it and got up too, dragging the blanket from her bed with her. 

“You know how to build a fire the muggle way?” she asked incredulously. 

“It can’t be that hard,” he shrugged. “You start with the small twigs and paper…” he had begun piling them in the grate. 

“Right,” she said moving close to him, “and you sort of arrange them like a lattice for the logs to go on.” She reached out to demonstrate and her arm brushed his. She felt his eyes on her as she extended her wand to spark the tinder into flame. “We’re going to need some more wood from outside,” she remarked, looking at the very small pile next to the fireplace. 

“I’ll get it,” he said, matching action to words. He brought in a large bundle, neatly magicking it to the grate and she added a few of the smaller logs to the flames. The fire caught and began blazing merrily. Heat seeped slowly into the room. 

“Why didn’t we think of this sooner,” she smiled up at him. He was already looking down at her and their eyes met. Something warm flashed between them and his crinkled at the corners. 

“I blame you, muggleborn,” he said teasingly. 

“Heyyy!” she exclaimed, reaching out to rap him on the arm. He reacted with lightning quickness, his hand closing around her wrist to block her. His long fingers lingered for a moment, gently encircling her skin before he let go. Then they both turned away quickly and he moved toward the beds. 

“Why don’t we pull the mattresses off of the frames and put them in front of the fire?” he suggested. “I think that’s the only way we’ll be warm enough to get any sleep.” 

Hermione’s inner evil twin _immediately_ thought of a few other ways they could get warm, but she ignored it and murmured her agreement. She helped him to pull the mattresses over to the little living room nook, which was so small that they had to sort of push them together. 

Hermione perched on her mattress, arms around her knees and still bundled in her blanket, staring at the flames. Draco lounged on his, head propped on his pillows and crossed arms, also gazing into the fire. “I feel like I’m back in a common room at Hogwarts,” she remarked, chuckling a bit. 

He smirked and looked around. “Yeah, but maybe Hufflepuff’s. Wasn’t it supposed to be sort of round and homely?” She nodded and he rubbed his hands together, “Now, if only we had something to warm us up on the _inside_. But I suppose the pub is shut land it’s doubtful any of those little cupboards is housing a convenient bottle of firewhisky.” 

Hermione craned her neck and looked out the window. “It’s not even that late, but yes, the main building is dark.” He looked glum. She gazed at him, wondering at how even his downturned mouth was sexy, then suddenly had a brainwave, her eyes lighting up. “Draco, wait!” she jumped up off her mattress, rushed over to her bag and began digging around in it. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, just as she looked up in triumph. 

“Close your eyes,” she commanded. 

“Why, Granger. This is suddenly getting interesting,” he drawled, leering up at her. She glared at him and he slowly lowered his lids. “Ok, ok.” 

She walked over and knelt down on her mattress, facing him. “You can open them now.” 

His eyes flicked open and widened immediately. “Oh, you beauty!” he exclaimed, taking hold of the bottle of Aquavit she had purchased at the hostel in Sweden. “Why do you have this!?” 

“I, er, bought it for you. After you said you liked it so much.” Hermione knew her cheeks were bright red. “I wanted to give it to you to thank you for helping me on this assignment. Even though, I uh, knew you didn’t initially want to come.”

He had already gotten up and was pulling two mugs from the cupboard. “Well thank you very much. That was kind - and very timely - of you.” He glanced over his shoulder and threw her a brilliant smile. 

Hermione also jumped up and ambled over to a little muggle type radio that was sitting in the corner. “I wonder if this works…” she mused as he moved around in the kitchen. She flicked the switch and tinny, old-fashioned sounding music emerged from the tiny speaker. It seemed to consist mainly of pipes and flutes and was vaguely festive. She left it on low.

Draco walked over and brought her a mug. “Greatest hits of the Norwegian folk movement?” 

She smiled up at him as she took her mug, “seems like it.” Sniffing the powerful spirit, she wrinkled her nose. “I still think it smells like Petrol.” She dropped back down on her mattress.

“The first one’s always the worst,” he promised, sitting back down to face her. “It gets considerably better after that. Salut or Skal or whatever they say here.” 

They drank and she sputtered, eyes watering. “Oh, Draco that is _foul_! I need a chaser. I don’t suppose there were any biscuits in that cupboard?” He laughed and shook his head, leaning forward to pat her on the back, his fingers lingering a bit. 

“Nooo, no firewhisky and no biscuits. Although, hang on a sec…” It was his turn to jump up and rummage in his bag. He turned and his smile glinted. “You close your eyes, now.” 

“Why, Malfoy…” she started to drawl, giggling. He made a sound close to a growl and she closed her eyes obediently. She heard him pour another measure of the spirit into the mugs and then felt him sit down again, his clean scent wafting her way. He placed something that felt like a square box on her lap.

“Open.” 

She flicked her lids up to see that he was gazing at her, eyes lively. Balanced on her knees was a beautifully beribboned box of marzipan - each of the candies shaped like a different and incredibly realistic miniature fruit. 

“Where did you get this?” she exclaimed. “They’re so beautiful!” She immediately began untying the ribbon, then lifted the lid, taking a deep inhale of the delicious aroma of sweet almond. 

“I saw you admiring them in the sweet shop window earlier today when we stopped for lunch,” he said. “I had a similar idea that I might give you a small token to thank you. For advocating for me to come on this assignment. I think it’s going to open doors for me and hopefully break the barrier to me getting more field work.” His eyes had gone rather serious. “With my background that’s been difficult to do. I very much appreciate that you took a chance.” 

She looked at him quizzically. “You wanted to come on this assignment?”

“Yes, of course. Actually, yeah - what did you mean earlier when you said you thought I didn’t?”

She sipped at her Aquavit, following it with a delicate bite of a miniature pear. “Mmm, much better,” she said. He raised his eyebrows and she sighed, “I overheard something, ok? That you had a fight with Robards over this assignment and said you wouldn’t do it.” 

“You know what they say about eavesdroppers, Granger,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he helped himself to a tiny orange from the box. 

She reddened. “I know, I know.” She absently drank the rest of her Aquavit. It really had gotten much smoother. The candy helped too. 

“And besides,” he continued. “You heard wrong. That conversation was Robards trying to command me to turn down this assignment, so that I could finish a mind-numbing rune translation project he’s had me doing for weeks. Apparently everyone else in the department is crap with anything remotely intellectual, so that means I have to be glued to a desk for my entire career? I think not.” He raked his hand through his hair and his eyes spit silver fire as he stared into the distance. Hermione was reminded of the description the filing clerk gave of him after the confrontation with Robards. The girl had been right, _hot hot hot._

He looked at her and his eyes softened again. “Is that why you were so touchy that first day?”

She looked down. “Yessss. I was annoyed because I wrote a note saying you’d be good for the job. And then I thought you rejected it.” 

He chuckled. “That note was actually what made Robards relent. Once he saw it he released me from the other project. So I was actually very grateful for it. Still am. So thank you.” 

“Well, you’re welcome,” she smiled. I’m glad that you actually wanted to be here. I thought we worked rather well together and will be sure to tell Robards. And thank you for the candy.”


	8. It was just like Christmas

An hour or so later, the fire had warmed the room completely, the marzipan was gone and there was a considerable dent in the bottle of spirits. Hermione was doing her best to beat Draco at a wandless, wordless magic competition. They were sitting side by side on their mattresses and trying to see who could accio their wand faster. 

“Yes! I win!” she crowed, waving hers in the air, while his was still just wobbling off the table. 

“Fine, witch,” he said. “But I still say I can out-brew you at almost any potion you put your hand to.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed. She sat up and faced him with legs crossed.

The music in the background suddenly surged with a flourish of horns. “You know, Draco,” she said with a little gleam in her eye, “ _now_ it feels like Christmas.” 

“Oh?” he raised a brow, his eyes glowing in the firelight as he rolled over to face her and prop his cheek in his hand. 

“Yes,” she waved her hand around to encompass them. “We have gifts, a crackling fire, vaguely festive music. It’s very cold out, but I’m feeling warm, slightly drunk _and_ rather merry.” 

He laughed softly, “and wasn’t there one other thing you specified when you were berating me on the side of the road for my innocent comment?” 

“That was when I thought you didn’t want to be on the assignment!” she protested. He looked at her and she blushed. “Ok, ok,” she said in a small voice, “I said that I wanted to be with people who wanted to be with me.” 

“And what do you think about that now?” he asked, his voice and eyes suddenly rather intense. 

“I, I think it’s _just_ like Christmas.” 

“Mmm, not quite yet,” he said, picking up his wand, but not breaking eye contact with her. 

Hermione felt her pulse rate increase as he moved closer to her on the mattress. Her eyes followed the graceful movement of his wrist while he flicked his wand above their heads and muttered a low incantation. Greenery spiraled from the tip and arranged itself into a neat bunch of dark leaves and white berries. 

_Mistletoe_. 

She inhaled sharply and looked down, her eyes catching his, which had suddenly gone quite dark. He reached out and slid his hand into her hair, pulling her down toward him and capturing her lips. Hermione felt like she was falling and floating at the same time - into the most stunning kiss. He was still propped on his elbow, but using his other hand to hold her against him as the kiss deepened, their tongues twining. 

Then he rose up and over her, and pushed her back onto the mattress. She slid her hands up his chest and felt her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss grew wilder. He braced his arms on either side of her face while her hands moved from his shoulders and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, threading her fingers into the hair at his nape. His weight against her felt _delicious_.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, seeming to echo her thoughts. His lips left hers to kiss the sensitive spot just below her ear. 

“Mmmm, almond and anise,” she agreed, arching her neck to give him better access and dragging her fingers through his bright hair. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for months,” he whispered against her neck, “but the last few days have been a special kind of torture.” 

She laughed softly for a moment before his lips came back to hers and silenced her, his tongue doing something wicked and sweet. 

“Tell me about it,” she managed to say after a few minutes, running her foot up the back of his leg and pulling him closer to her core. He inhaled sharply, his hand coming up from the bed to skim over the curve of her bare waist. 

“Do you know…” he whispered between kisses, “how fucking sexy this top is? And … how adorable… you look … in a knit hat?” 

She pulled back and breathed a soft laugh, stroking his beautiful face before kissing him again. “I’m a _particular_ fan of your coat... and … your dimple.” Her finger traced across his cheek and he gazed into her eyes. 

It felt like they were the only two people in the world in this strange little cottage on this freezing winter night. Hermione’s physical sensations soared at his intensifying touch, but her mind was also ablaze with the idea that he had wanted her too - and for some time. The knowledge felt like a gift. As she pushed her hands up under his shirt and ran her fingers up the silk of his bare back, seeking his lips again, she thought it actually _wasn’t_ just like Christmas, it was better.

  
  
  
❄️ _~FIN~_ 🎄

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hope it’s not too disappointing that this was pretty G-rated, although I think we all know what happened next in the little, round cottage! ;) It just didn’t feel right to make a story inspired by this song into a smutfest (although I can think of some other Christmas songs that lend themselves quite well to that). Oh and the song DM & HG are listening to in the car is ‘Crosses’ by Jose Gonzalez, who despite how his name sounds, is actually Swedish!


End file.
